Make a Wish
by Slytherin Gypsy
Summary: *(Pre-)Slash!* It's Neville's Birthday and he's felling lonely. The war is breaking and there is no one that understands. Or is there? Percy/Neville.


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Title: Make a Wish

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Author: Slytherin Gypsy

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Rating: PG-13

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Genre: Romance, Angst.

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Pairing: Percy/Neville. 

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Spoilers: Not really sure... All books to be safe, but definitely to Goblet of Fire

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Warnings: PRE-SLASH

Feedback: Welcome!

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Chapters: 1/1. Maybe a sequel later...

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Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Author's Note: You should have realized by now this is **SLASH **(well, beginnings of). That's a yaoi, shonen-ai, gay or whatever you prefer, story. Stupid flames will be used to light my fireplace (I don't mind CONSTRUCTIVE criticism). If you want to read a really good Percy/Neville story check _Khirsah's_ Unlikely Heroes.

Please, also note that on the beginning of the story Neville is fifteen. The legal age of consent in England is sixteen, so nothing 'serious' will happen before that. Percy is four years older than Ron, which makes him approximately nineteen in the beginning of the fic. 

I can't travel my block

And I can't have no picnics

The sun don't shine

But still it's hot

And you tellin' me "Stop trippin'"

When you walk outside

You see the view

But the world gets

So so beautiful,

Forgot my pretty lie

My pretty lie

My pretty lie

"My Window" by Soulbone

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**** * *** * *** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * **** * ****

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Make a Wish

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~~~ * ~~~

Since I was a child, grandma asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I usually gave her a silly answer, like a bag of candy or a new toy. Because I never could bring myself to tell her what I really wanted, not after what happened the first time. I remember like it was yesterday. Gran asked what I would want for my birthday, expecting for a toy broomstick or a pet. I told her I wanted my parents to get better so we could be a real family again. She looked startled for a moment, her face softening from the usual cold mask. But she quickly regained control and told me it was impossible and that I should ask for normal things, like candy and toys. My dreams were crashed. 

I was four.

So I never told her (or anyone else) what my real birthday wishes are. The only moment when I admit that they are what I really want is when I blow the candles in my birthday cake. Every year the cake is the same, pumpkin and nuts, with a 'Happy Birthday' written with blue chocolate. I don't really care. All that matters are the candles, one for each year of my life. I close my eyes and blow them, praying that my wishes will came true.

For the first years of my life I wished for my parents to get better. Every year, the day after my birthday, when I opened the door to room 216 of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, I expected them to turn around and great me. In my dreams they would hug me strongly and tell me they loved me and how proud they were. Because they would know I wasn't a Squib, they would know I was one of them. And we would go home (a small cozy house with a huge garden) and be happy. Dad would play with me and mum would tell me stories. I remember every single time I opened that same door, hoping, dreaming. I would see them just like in my dreams, staring at the window, wearing St. Mungo's white robes. But unlike in my dreams, they never turned around. They never smiled. They never hugged me. 

When I got older my wishes started to change. In my eleventh birthday I wished for Hogwart's letter. I felt bad at first, not asking for my parents. But I knew they would be proud if I went to Hogwarts. And maybe, just maybe, if I became a powerful wizard I could cure them. Didn't Great-Uncle Algie always say that Magic could make everything possible? And miraculously my wish came true for the first time. The next morning there was a Hogwarts letter in the kitchen table addressed to me. I still have it; I sleep with it inside my pillowcase so I won't lose it. Every time I went back to my dormitory, after blowing my cauldron in Potions or failing to change a match into a needle in Transfiguration I would pick it and stare at it for a long time. And then I would remember I had the right to be there. I wasn't there because of pity, Hogwarts accepted me because I was a wizard and I could do magic. I wasn't a Squib.

And that was all that mattered. 

My birthday after the first year was different too. For the second time, I didn't ask for my parents. I asked for friends. It wasn't like no one never talked to me, I knew lots of people and they were friendly (specially after the ten points Dumbledore gave to me in the Feast). But I didn't have a real friend, not like Harry and Ron or Dean and Seamus had each other. Even Trevor was always getting away from me. So, on my twelfth birthday, I asked for a real friend, someone that would listen to me and like me exactly like I was, just plain clumsy Neville Longbottom. This time, my wish didn't come true.

Somehow, I knew it wouldn't.

Now I don't even know if I'll have another birthday. He is back. You-know-who. Back to finish what he started. And I forget about my parents, I forget about Hogwarts and friends. And I know what my next wish will be. Don't let anyone be hurt. Don't let anyone die. Don't let this happen. I wish darkness would never come. 

And once again I know my wish will not become true.

~~~ * ~~~

**__**

It's fun actually, to think about my life. For my parents I am Percy, the Prefect. Percy, the Head Boy. Percy, the responsible. Percy, that followed father's footsteps. Percy that would be Minister of Magic one day. For my brothers, I am "Perfect Percy" that was named Prefect. Percy, the Big Head Boy. Percy, the annoying. Percy, the "Weatherby." Percy, that would probably stay his whole life in an office, doing the most possible boring work he could find.

Not that I did much to change this, mind you. Since I was a child every time someone asked what I would do in the future, my answer would be always the same. I will work in the Ministry of Magic, just like father. The adults found it positively cute. Such an adoring little boy, wanting to be like his father. My brothers found it stupid. I was just "wanting to be like dad." I never knew where they got the word _want_. Oh, I always said I was _going _towork for the Ministry. I never actually said that I _wanted_ to.

I don't know really why I decided to do things this way. My two older brothers had their own dreams. Bill always wanted to do something in an exotic faraway land, Charlie wanted to fight and tame dark creatures. That's what they said, anyway. But I knew the truth. Bill didn't want to end up working in Egypt. Charlie didn't want the Romanian dragons. They just wanted to hide. Hide from a past that is coming back.

I still remember, waking up in the middle of the night hearing screams. Waking in the morning without knowing if everyone I knew was still alive. I still smell the burgundy blood, pungent and poisonous. I still see the mutilated corpses scattered around. I can still fell my heart ripping in thousands of pieces.

The twins wouldn't understand it; I don't think even Ron and Ginny would. Not now. Maybe my parents, but I highly doubt it. It happened with three of their sons and they never noticed. We were young then, when the war was at its highest and most dangerous point. Bill and Charlie were at Hogwarts, I was at home with mother, the twins and a bit later Ron. My parents tried, they really tried, to make things sound less horrible. They never talked about the war or who had died in front of me (not unless they had to) and specially, never _ever_ how it happened. That was their worst mistake. Don't get me wrong, they had noble intentions. They were just trying to protect me. But I knew too much. 

I always had a gift with the silence. Maybe it was growing in those times were silence was a necessity. So many nights mother woke me and told me to get dressed so we could go to a safer place, where silence was all we had. 

A safer place was never home. Silence was never enough. 

I heard them, every night when I was supposed to be in bed. Torture, death, rape. Blood, viscera and macabre rituals. Death Eaters and the Dark Mark. Every night the stories would get worse, more violent and crueler. And every single word I heard would harder my heart more and more. 

Bill and Charlie heard them too I suppose. Not as much and as detailed as I did, but they knew what was really happening. I think the others imagine the war was just something like what happened at the World Cup. A simple game of spells. If it had been so simple… My brothers decided to run away. They left the Burrow as soon as they graduated, looking for adventures in distant places. Trying to forget a past they had heard. 

I couldn't. 

I couldn't forget the deafening silence, the sticking blood and the painful screams. I couldn't hide; I couldn't go away from them. They were always there, in my dreams, every single time I closed my yes. Trapping me, surrounding me, torturing me slowly. They never went away. 

I never wanted them to.

It's coming again. The darkness. I can sense it. I just wish that this time I were ready to do something about. But in the end, it doesn't really matter. 

Ready or not, I will.

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~~~ * ~~~

"Now, where is your list?"

Noise of searching through robes. 

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Forgetful as always…

"I can't find it."

A deep sigh.

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Just a disappointment…

"Can't you manage not to lose the list at least once?"

"I'm sorry, Granny."

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Sorry is all I have.

"I don't know what to do with you, Neville."

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I don't either.

"Are you sure you didn't left it home?"

"Yes."

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Your house is not home.

"You probably left it at Florean Fortescue's. Here, take some money, find your list and buy what you need. I'll see you in the Leaky Cauldron in a hour."

The noise of coins hitting the floor. A deep sigh.

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Leave.

"Better make it two. Neville. Don't. Lose. The. Money. Understood?"

"Yes, Granny."

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Just **leave**…

"See you in two hours. Don't be late!"

Heavy footsteps.

I'm always late. Always too late…

"Yes, Granny."

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Yes, Granny.

"I won't be late."

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It's just my birthday after all…

****

~~~ * ~~~

"…And of course I told him I would… Percy? Percy is you listening to me?"

Raised eyes. A deep sigh. Glasses on the table.

"I'm sorry mother. I was… Thinking about work. We are pretty busy you know."

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A lie. Again.

"I know my dear. Your father barely sleeps at night… I am sure you are worried with your work too."

"Yes."

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No.

"Things are going to be all right."

Things are **not **going to be all right.

"I'm sure they are mother."

The ice cream bowl is long forgotten.

"I'm going to look for the twins. Heaven knows what they are doing. Are you going to stay here?"

"I'm going to look around. I need to find some things. For work."

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It's not work. It's never work.

"Go ahead then. We will meet here in an hour?"

"Don't worry with me. I'll just apparate to the Burrow."

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How I wish it were **home**…

"All right then. I'll see you later Percy."

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Later. It's always later. It's always too late…

"Goodbye mother."

The sound of a chair moving. A soft kiss. Footsteps.

"Goodbye…"

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It is always the last word for me…

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~~~ * ~~~

The piece of parchment was still there, exactly where he had left it while he waited for his Grandmother to talk with her friends. Neville didn't like them. They were too old and scary and either ignored him or gave him such sickening pity eyes he couldn't bear be near them for long.

He considered for a bit if he should stop and get some ice cream. It was a bright sunny day and the ice cream sounded appealing. There was just one place in the world where he could get his favorite type: Florean Fortescue's ice cream Parlor, 579 different ice cream types. Granny always made him get something 'normal' like chocolate, vanilla or pumpkin. The last time he was allowed to get his favorite type was before his first year, when his grandma was so happy to be actually buying Hogwarts materials to her almost-squib grandchild that she didn't even criticize his choice.

Unfortunately, his consciousness seemed to get the best of him. He knew grandma didn't have that much time to spare and she would be furious if he didn't finish his shopping before meeting with her. Maybe, if he was quick, he could still get some ice cream before going back to the Leaky Cauldron. After all he just had to buy some potions ingredients (he shivered with the mere though) and two books: _Advanced Divination: When the future knocks on your door and makes it fall on your head_ and _Botanicus Magicus: an Advanced Comprehension Guide of Magical Plants_ (Professor Sprout had offered Neville an assistant job with one of her researches, so he needed the book to help her). He had already bought new robes (he had grown surprisingly over the summer) and grandma always made sure he had a couple of spare cauldrons after receiving a letter from Snape during his first year when the he had broken all records and used 12 different ones through the whole year. The only one that had survived 'intact' he had somehow turned bright purple and he made sure to hide it very well, afraid Professor Snape would force him to use it.

Resigned he turned around to go to the Apothecary when he collided with something. He closed his eyes, expecting the pain of the ground, and was surprised when he felt something soft under him. Something soft, warm and that was breathing right next to his ears sending involuntary shivers through his spine. He started to apologize, without really knowing if he should -had it only been his fault? -, But the years of clumsiness had made it quite automatic. The other boy (he didn't want to think how he was _so_ sure it was a boy) seemed to think it hadn't been his fault because he kept saying it was all right. Neville blushed a little when he heard the voice. Not boyish at all, far from that, but a rich, masculine and -dare he say it? - Sexy one. For a crazy moment he actually thought that the owner of that voice (and of the well-built chest that was still pressed against him) had called his name. And more than surprised he was when he heard it for a second time. Shyly (although he couldn't explain why), he lifted his gaze. Two amazingly blue eyes stared at him, surrounded by a pair of serious looking glasses. A curious, yet so familiar expression. Like he had seen it many times before. Then he noticed the bright red hair and everything seemed to get to its place. A Weasley. Oh, but not any Weasley.

"Percy?" he asked, quite surprised. The last time he saw the older boy was during the second task of the Trywizard Tournament last year, when he had been a judge. But they hadn't talked in a long time, since the arrival at King's Cross at the end of Percy's last year, when he had wished him good luck at the ministry. He actually missed this particular redhead a bit. Percy had always been kind and sometimes Neville imagined he could actually understand him and what he had gone through. Wishful thinking, he reminded himself. Why would Percy, of all people, understand him? He had a wonderful _complete_ family, was really bright, had been Prefect and Head boy and now had a good position in the Ministry. It must have been the other boy's (the term seemed now so inappropriate) eyes. Sometimes they seemed as cloudy and as empty as his own.

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It fells so good…

"Comfortable?" he heard Percy asking.

"Oh, yes thank you." he answered. His face flushed. "I mean, NO! I mean, I... I just…"

The redhead laughed. Not that mocking hurtful sound Neville was so used to hear every time he tripped or one of his magical attempts (especially potions), failed. Those hurt sometimes, even the one's coming from his fellow Gryffindors, no matter how much he tried not to let them bother him. But there was something about Percy's laugh… It was deep and tender… Comforting and reassuring and so, so mellow it was almost like a song… He hadn't moved yet, still lying there under him, amused it seemed, with the bizarre situation.

And for a moment, their eyes meet again.

And them he felt it. A delicious and inebriant warm started to spread through his body, warming him like Butterbeer in a rainy day. And as suddenly as it began, it increased. It was no longer a comfortable warm; it was a hot wave of pleasure claiming his whole body in an excruciating sweet pain.

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Oh, my…

Without wasting a second he pulled himself to his feet, cheeks burning as much as other parts of his body he didn't want to think about. What had happened? In a moment he was just plain old Neville Longbottom, in the other he was a pervert taking advantage of strangers in the middle of a crowded street!

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I am not a pervert, I was not taking advantage of him and Percy is not a stranger.

And that's what scared him most.

At least Percy knew how he was likely to get himself in the strangest accidents and would probably think that had been the case.

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It **was** the case.

Unless, of course, the other boy had notice exactly why he got up so quickly.

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Oh, no. Please no…

"Are you all right Neville?"

He then realized he must have been standing there for quite a while without saying a thing.

"Yes, yes… I am really sorry Percy. I didn't want to fall over you."

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And least of all enjoy it so much.

"It's ok. I was a bit distracted myself. Want to sit? I haven't seen you in a while. Well, not talked to you is more the case. I was at the second task in the Tournament. I saw you there."

"I remember. I don't want to take your time. You work for the Ministry, you must be very busy."

"Not all. Unless, of course, you have to go."

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Say yes, say yes.

"No! I- I can stay for a while. If you don't mind of course."

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Stupid!

"Great! So how are things?"

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I am not going to stutter!

"Go-good."

"You don't seem very well."

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I am not trembling… I am not trembling… Wait! Was it concern in his voice?

"Not that I am trying to pry or anything, but you look like your best friend just forgot your birthday."

Neville's still rosy face went suddenly deadly pale. Percy seemed to notice because his expression changed in a second.

"It _is_ your birthday, isn't it?" he asked, careful, almost nervously.

Neville simply nodded, averting his eyes from Percy's gaze. Based on his reaction, he was sure older boy knew he hadn't received a single card from any of his supposed friends. He swallowed dryly.

It was going to begin, he knew it was. The questions, the pity. He couldn't take it. Not now, not from Percy. He was trying to come up with a good excuse and just disappear from there when he heard Percy's voice, the amiable tone back once again.

"What's your favorite ice cream?"

Neville turned around to face Percy barely in a second, all his worries forgotten, a shocked look visible in his face. Whatever he was expecting, that sure wasn't it.

"What?" he asked obviously confused.

"I asked what is your favorite ice cream." Percy repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Yeah, I heard that. It's just... An odd question. I mean, especially coming from you."

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What are you doing Percy? What do you want?

Ignoring Neville's last commentary, Percy continued to talk.

"Oh, come on. It's just ice cream. It's not like I asked what kind of boxers you sleep with."

Neville blushed. He couldn't believe _Percy_ of all people would even _think_ of asking him something like _that_.

"I'll pretend I never heard that." he said in a mocking tone.

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Or else I won't be able to keep my sanity...

"Be my guest." Percy answered. He paused for a bit, but soon regained his purpose and continued to talk with Neville. "So what's your favorite ice cream? Or don't you like ice cream at all?"

Neville was felling uncomfortable, wishing he could find a way out of this. One that didn't include total humiliation. Finally he cleared his throat.

"I do. It's just that..."

"It can't be that bad."

Neville looked at Percy's face then. He wasn't going to laugh. Not Percy. Not at him.

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I couldn't take it today...

"It's Pepspishwithhon." he said quickly, his voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Percy seemed almost amused with the boy's embarrassment. It was just ice cream after all, not a big deal.

But Neville seemed to think it _was_ a big deal. The young Gryffindor breathed deeply. Now or never.

"Pepper-Spinach with Honey."

And so he waited. For the laugh. For the 'Ewww, that's so disgusting' comment (after all even the Magical world had its limitations regarding what's 'normal' regarding food taste). And once again he was surprised. 

"Pe- Pepper-Spinach with Honey?" the redhead asked, an almost incredulous tone in his voice.

Neville blushed even more, without really understanding why.

"I know it sound silly or even disgusting but it's been my favo..."

But he never finished what he was going to say because Percy had put (nearly dropped actually) his almost empty ice cream bowl right in front of him. He raised his eyebrows, clearly confused, but the older boy just made a movement with his chin, motioning him to look. Still curious, he looked at the ordinary ice cream bowl. There was still some melted ice cream there (Percy hadn't bothered to pay more for a magical non-melting bowl), forming a very familiar greenish-brown mixture. Without thinking too much he toke some of it with the tip of his index finger, not even caring about Percy's small laugh.

"Pepper-Spinach with Honey." Neville said finally, eyes wide open. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"It's my favorite." Percy said smiling, answering the unmade question. He picked the spoon Neville had obviously ignored and licked it clean, maybe a bit more slowly than he actually needed. "Sweet, hot and somehow slightly bitter at the same time. Just the way I like it."

And for the first time in weeks, the smile in Neville's face was actually genuine.

****

~~~ * ~~~

For how long Percy just sat there, staring at a piece of parchment in one of the other tables, he couldn't tell. He felt so trapped inside Diagon Alley, surrounded by people whose only concerns where themselves. They laughed and joked so freely that he had the urge to throw up. How could they have forgotten so easily all that had happened? It had been only yesterday when they dreaded the Dark Mark and feared the Dark Lord. And now it seemed only a big joke, an old childhood scar. Today all was light. But tomorrow... Sometimes he thought tomorrow wouldn't come at all.

To hide in his office was out of question; he had taken the whole week off work by Mr. Fudge's personal insistence (he had the impression the minister didn't like him very much) and going to the Burrow was as tempting as a Potions lesson. So he just sat there, letting his ice cream melt (he hadn't paid for a magical non-melting bowl), even though it was his favorite. He lifted his eyes to check the big clock on the other side of the street. Five minutes since his mother left. He sighted deeply. Time seemed to be playing a cruel joke on him. Or was it just giving him time to enjoy the precious last minutes of sunlight?

Maybe he could take a walk. He always wondered how Muggle London looked like… Deciding that anything was better than staring at that piece of parchment (that seemed to have disappeared while he was distracted), he got up and turned around to leave… just to be pushed to the ground.

Before he could grasp exactly what had happened, he could already hear the young man's voice, apologizing profusely, sounding something between pathetically cute or adorably embarrassing.

"It's OK, Neville." he found himself saying, almost in a natural reflex, without really grasping the meaning of the words. The boy was still apologizing when he realized that his body was a step ahead of his brain in recognizing the source of the small warm body pressed against his.

"Neville?" he called once again, this time letting the whole information sink. He was laying on one of the busiest parts of Diagon Alley with a fifteen year old on top of him. And he wasn't even slightly bothered.

The boy finally seemed to acknowledge that he really wasn't mad with the little 'incident.' He seemed almost scared when he turned his head to face him. And suddenly Percy was lost. 

Neville's eyes where linked with his, a deep and mesmerizing honey-colored ocean contrasting with his stormy blue one.

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Say something!

"Comfortable?" he asked.

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Not that!

"Oh, yes thank you." he heard the other boy mutter before his face flushed a brilliant shade of red. "I mean, NO! I mean, I... I just…"

He looked so adorable _cute_. Before Percy could stop himself he started laughing. For the first time in what? Five, six years? It felt good, being able to laugh like that, without the weight of the world on his shoulders. He turned to look at Neville.

And for a moment, their eyes meet again.

He felt… enthralled. Like someone had just opened a door to heaven. Neville's breath became raged and for a moment he swore he could fell the boy's body meaning _pure heat_, but as suddenly as it came it was gone, leaving Percy to shiver involuntary. Quite impressive how Diagon Alley in the middle of the summer could fell so cold. He got up slowly, noticing the boy was shaking a bit.

"Are you all right Neville?"

The boy blinked and shook his head, finally out of his reverie. 

"Yes, yes… I am really sorry Percy. I didn't want to fall over you."

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I didn't want you to get up.

"It's ok. I was a bit distracted myself. Want to sit? I haven't seen you in a while. Well, not talked to you is more the case. I was at the second task in the Tournament. I saw you there."

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And I saw you dancing with my little sister, too…

"I remember. I don't want to take your time. You work for the Ministry, you must be very busy."

**__**

Busy with the Ministry… Is that all you think when you think about me? Do you think about me at all? 

"Not all. Unless, of course, you have to go."

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Do you want to stay?

"No! I- I can stay for a while. If you don't mind of course."

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Mind? Yes, I think I'm loosing mine…

"Great! So how are things?"

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Why you looked so sad?

"Go-good."

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Liar.

"You don't seem very well."

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I am worried.

"Not that I am trying to pry or anything, but you look like your best friend just forgot your birthday."

At that simple comment Neville's face became as white as Nearly-Headless Nick's. Percy suddenly felt a strange mix of shame and empathy

"It _is_ your birthday, isn't it?" he asked, careful, almost nervously. 

****

Neville nodded, obviously uncomfortable with the question. Percy felt a wave of memories hit him suddenly. How many times had it happened to him? A couple of times home with some of his brothers… The whole seven years at Hogwarts.

He had to say something, anything, to make Neville realize it was okay. That he wasn't the only one.

"What's your favorite ice cream?"

The younger boy turned around, a shocked look on his face. Percy couldn't explain what had possessed him to ask something like _that_, but it had seemed innocent enough and the only thing he could do to change the look on Neville's face.

"What?" the boy asked obviously confused.

"I asked what is your favorite ice cream." Percy repeated, trying to sound as confident as he wished he were.

"Yeah, I heard that. It's just... An odd question. I mean, especially coming from you."

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Odd question from an odd person. Don't you know I care? I care even if I shouldn't.

Trying to not let Neville's last commentary bother him, Percy continued to talk.

"Oh, come on. It's just ice cream. It's not like I asked what kind of boxers you sleep with."

The moment the words left his mouth, Percy regretted them. He felt himself blush intensely and couldn't help seeing the blond boy's face coloring a little too. Fortunately, Neville seemed to take it as a joke.

"I'll pretend I never heard that." he said as if they were used to joke like this all the time.

"Be my guest." Percy answered, although he wasn't sure his tone was as sarcastic as it should have been. It sounded like he was actually relieved. Which he was. Which he wasn't going to admit. 

__

The boy is fifteen... You can't go around picturing him in nice tight black boxers... Oh, no, no! Don't even go there! Control yourself Percival, he's a kid. Wasn't that fall enough? Do you want to scare him?

Trying to sound cheerful (and in his opinion falling miserably) he asked once again.

"So what's your favorite ice cream? Or don't you like ice cream at all?"

The blond boy seemed a little uneasy. Finally he cleared his throat.

"I do. It's just that..."

"It can't be that bad."

__

Believe me, you don't want to know mine.

"It's Pepspishwithhon." the blond said, sounding more that he was trying to speak Parseltongue than English.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Percy forced himself not to chuckle. What was Neville expecting? That he would laugh at him? Then this was _Neville_ he was talking about. Too much like himself, more than he ever wanted to admit. After all, Percy was sure he would not ever consider telling one of his brothers (specially Gred or Forge) that his favorite ice cream was... 

"Pepper-Spinach with Honey."

It took Percy a moment to realize he wasn't the one that said that. Could Neville have meant...

"Pe- Pepper-Spinach with Honey?" Percy asked abashed. They couldn't be _that_ alike! 

By some strange reason he thought Neville was actually blushing. Must have been a light trick.

"I know it sound silly or even disgusting but it's been my favo..."

He didn't let the smaller boy finish, dropping his ice cream bowl recklessly on the table. He had ate most of the ice cream and what was left had probably melted by now (he didn't bother to pay for a magical bowl to prevent that), but he knew it was going to be enough. He pointed the bowl with his chin when Neville looked at him totally confused. In a child like way, the boy dipped his fingers into the bowl, causing Percy to laugh. He looked adorable, really, licking ice cream from his fingers with the tip of his tongue. At least 'adorable' was as far as Percy permitted his mind to go. 

"Pepper-Spinach with Honey." The words come out of the boy's mouth like a gracious prayer. He could fell Neville trying to say something, too stunned to say something. If ice cream did this, how would he react to so many more things Percy wanted to tell him right now?

"It's my favorite." The redhead said, a smile lighting his face. Other things could wait. He picked the untouched spoon, liking it clean. "Sweet, hot and somehow slightly bitter at the same time. Just the way I like it."

The smile in Neville's face made him wonder if things could be all right after all. 

****

~*~*~

I have some ideas for short sequels... If any one is interested, that is.


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